


Keepalive

by faeleverte



Series: Two-Man Rule [5]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Bus Sex, Desk Sex, During Ep 1:10, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Pheels, inappropriately-worn purple ribbon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 22:59:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faeleverte/pseuds/faeleverte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night before he leads his team in an all-out assault against Centipede, Phil gets an unexpected visitor on the Bus. Clint says he’s there to wish Phil luck, tell him to be careful, just because he was in the area. This would be a horrible time to leave words unspoken, but since that's how their relationship goes, they're just going to have to show each other. Very thoroughly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keepalive

**Author's Note:**

> A keepalive (KA) is a message sent by one device to another to check that the link between the two is operating, or to prevent this link from being broken.

Phil wandered through the Bus, checking over the shutdown for the night. May and Ward had opted to check into on-base accommodations, while Skye and Simmons found a nearby hotel with spa treatments. Fitz was buried in the bowels of the base’s tech lab; Phil hoped he’d crawl out and find a bunk to sleep in at some point in order to be fully functioning the next day. A quick glance out of the cargo ramp showed the usual bustle of a SHIELD hangar, and Phil rolled his eyes and raised the ramp. He’d checked through the storage and mechanics for any ground crew hiding out or left behind from the restocking and million-and-one-point check, and he was ready to have a few hours to himself and his two-way video device before the team returned in the morning and Mike joined them for the mission. 

He dimmed the lights as he passed through the plane, the windows already shaded to keep out the hangar lights, and the shadows deepening as half the lights were cut. Phil could not quite bring himself to allow the Bus to go entirely dark given his still-fresh nightmares about aliens with sharp sticks popping up behind him and the nightmares about… He mentally shook himself as he climbed the stairs to his office. _That_ was not worth thinking about right now. And then all unpleasant thoughts (and most of the pleasant ones) crawled out of his mind as he stepped into his office, already loosening his tie.

His bed was pulled out, turned down, and holding an archer who sat regally in the center, back resting against the pillows at the head of the bed, an impish smile on his lips and a worried look in his eyes.

Phil stood frozen in the doorway. He opened his mouth to say something, sifted through several languages without finding a single phrase to convey the level of his surprise, and let his jaw snap closed. 

“Hey, boss,” Clint said, softly, sliding to the edge of the bed and standing up. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and shoved the other into the pocket of his jeans. “Heard you were going after Centipede tomorrow and, well, I …”

“Clint,” Phil breathed. He again sorted through his vocabulary and finally came up with, “How the HELL did you get onto my Bus?”

“Aww, Phil,” Clint said, prowling across the floor like a great cat. “That all ya have for me?”

Phil was hypnotized watching Clint’s approach: the way his eyes picked up the dusty blue of his henley and the way those damn worn jeans hugged every inch of his lower half that was worth hugging - that is, all of it. His feet were bare, and they made absolutely no sound as he stalked across the floor, a regal lion, all coiled power and a promise of danger. 

Phil watched him swagger closer, and then his arms reached out without conscious direction to wrap Clint to his chest. 

“Hey, babe,” Clint whispered against Phil’s neck, pressing his lips just under Phil’s jaw. “Brought you a present…”

“Hot archer,” Phil said, his voice muffled by Clint’s soft blond spikes against his lips. “My favorite.”

“Gift wrapped it even,” Clint said, leaning back far enough to slide one arm up to wrap around Phil’s shoulders. “Wait’ll you see what I’ve got in my pants!”

Phil shivered with the memory of the last surprise Clint had hidden in his jeans, just a week before, during Phil’s mad dash to New York. His slacks tightened slightly.

“Clint,” Phil said, locking his hands onto Clint’s biceps and pushing him a step away. “I cannot wait to see what you thought up this time, but first, please: what are you doing here, and how did you get onto the plane?”

Clint took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Watercooler gossip around SHIELD is that some new, super-secret team got a lead on Centipede and their apparently no-longer-exploding Captain America wannabes. Every Seven and above knows the team is you and your ducklings.” Clint shifted his weight from foot to foot. “You’re going after them, and, it’s just that, babe, we both know how these missions are.”

“No,” Phil said. He pulled his hands back and crossed his arms over his chest, hunching his shoulders defensively. “This is just a mission like any other, and I’m not sure what you’re implying.”

“Super soldiers, Phil,” Clint answered seriously. He reached out with one hand to run the backs of his fingers up the arm of Phil’s suit jacket. “You and I both know how dangerous that whole mess is. Cap, Blonsky, Banner, Peterson, to name a very few. I just… this seems like a big one. And no telling how long you’ll be playing cat and mouse. So, since I was passing through…”

Phil raised an eyebrow. “Passing through?” He pointedly chose to ignore the first part of the commentary; there wasn’t room for doubts - Clint’s or his own - right now.

“Eyes only, bossman,” Clint said with a predatory grin. His shoulders rolled, pulling his shirt tight across the swell of his pecs. “Even your exalted clearance can’t get into it.”

Phil laughed and leaned in to capture Clint’s mouth in another kiss. “Okay,” he said when he finally broke for air. “Show me this gift wrap.”

Clint slid away from Phil and slowly pulled his shirt up and over his head, swinging it around his wrist before tossing it to Phil. Phil laughed and made a show of sniffing the collar before dropping it to the side, not caring where it landed. He choked as Clint shimmied his hips before popping open the buttons of his jeans. There was a glimpse of something deep purple at the open vee of his fly, and then Clint spun, flexing his ass as he slid the jeans down his thighs.

“Clint…” Phil breathed, entranced. The dim light that filtered through the shadowed skylight cascaded across Clint’s perfectly muscled shoulders, picking out the faint silver threads of scars and a few pink marks from newly-healed cuts. And then Clint turned, and Phil found himself staring, open-mouthed at a length of wide, purple silk ribbon wrapped snugly under Clint’s balls, twisting along his shaft, and secured at the head with a large, floppy bow.

“Like your gift?” Clint asked, a smirk creeping across his lips, eyes sparkling in the dimness. 

“My god, yes,” Phil breathed. “My favorite size and shape. Get on that bed and let me examine it a bit more closely.”

Clint backed up to the bed, the tails of the ribbon bobbing as he hardened further. Phil could not look away as Clint draped himself across the sheets, fingertips teasing his own nipples, the skin on his abs, trailing down the now-tight wrap of silk.

“Get over here, babe,” Clint growled, and Phil went, shedding his jacket, ignoring how it ended up crumpled on the floor. He detoured to the nightstand to retrieve a bottle of slick and box of condoms to toss onto the bed. He toed out of his shoes between two steps and leaned down to brace his fists on his mattress, letting his breath huff over Clint’s bare leg. There was just enough light to watch the goosebumps rise and settle at the air that brushed the golden hairs on Clint’s muscular calf.

Clint didn’t say anything as Phil crawled onto the bed, already reaching for that ridiculous bow. One tug, and there would be a muscled, glorious, naked archer in his bed. Must’ve hit his head on the way up the stairs: this was the ultimate fantasy. His fingers were caught before he managed to untie the ribbon.

“Not that I’m objecting to the way you’re devouring me with your eyes,” Clint said, flexing his chest, and oh, GOD! The things that flex did to Phil’s libido. “Seriously, though, I would really prefer to be devoured with your mouth. Maybe starting with this?” A hip waggle had the oversized bow waving from Clint’s erection like a war flag. “But you need to be wearing less suit before you get to open your present.”

Phil ignored the hand that was wrapped around his fingers, the demand for nudity, and the dancing, beribboned dick (visibly ignored it, at least, as the whole situation was certainly speaking to the not-brain parts of Phil’s body - loudly); instead he leaned down to press his lips gently against Clint’s. Clint kissed back with surprising sweetness, given the size of his dick under the bow and the suggestiveness of his pose. Phil sighed and relaxed against the bed, melting into Clint’s side and arms, the warmth and the hardness of his body. He felt Clint settle against him, and they simply kissed: mouths moving, noses brushing cheeks, tongues barely flicking against one another as they kept it gentle, tender.

They both kissed open-eyed, hands wandering along jaws, shoulders, ribs, hips, and then reversing the path until they were holding each other’s faces. Phil pulled back enough to breathe, their lips still touching, sharing air and space. 

“Only been a week,” Clint whispered against Phil’s mouth. “Only a week, and I have missed you every minute. Goddamnit, Phil. I don’t even know what we’re doing here, but I don’t want it to stop.”

Phil closed his eyes against the intensity of Clint’s gaze. This was treading far too near to Things They Did Not Say. But, Jesus, did Phil want to hear Clint say them. 

And where had that thought come from? This was… No. Clint was not… that to Phil. Phil was not that to Clint. They were...

“Clothes off, babe,” Clint growled, interrupting Phil’s train of thought. He pushed at Phil’s shoulders and let his eyes trace suggestively down to the hardness tenting the front of Phil’s pants; Phil felt another throb of arousal, effectively silencing his brain. “Need to get my hands on you, need your skin. Get you out of that suit…”

Phil rolled away from Clint, one leg drooping toward the floor as he got too near the edge of the mattress. Clint pushed himself up to unknot the tie under Phil’s chin and unfasten the buttons of his shirt, while Phil’s hands stroked and clutched at Clint’s shoulders. Clint’s mouth against newly-exposed skin had Phil writhing, hands clutching at the sheet on one side and thin air on the other. Clint groaned when he got to the bruise decorating the wing of one side of Phil’s collarbone.

“Still wearing my marks,” he said, mouthing at the place on Phil’s skin.

Phil’s temperature ratcheted up another notch, and he gave up trying to contain himself, reaching for Clint’s shoulders and dragging him up to get at his mouth.

“Even when they fade,” Phil didn’t say, scraping his teeth across Clint’s full lower lip. “No matter how long it’s been since I had you on me, in me, around me.” Phil tried to muffle his thoughts with the heat of Clint’s chest against his own. “Never letting go of this.” He stopped the words before they could slip out by clamping his teeth into the meat of Clint’s ridiculously broad shoulder, biting down hard.

Clint jerked out of Phil’s arms, breath coming in hard pants, eyes black in the dim light of the office.

“Sir,” he said, his voice a broken growl, “strip.”

Phil hurried to comply, his own eyes fastened on the luridly purple bow, now half-crushed and a bit damp. His slacks and shirt landed on the floor in a heap of wrinkles, underwear and socks following, and then Phil was slamming into Clint’s chest, pushing him onto his back, all his focus on getting to that bow with his hands and his mouth.

“Fuuuuuck!” Clint breathed, head falling back as Phil sucked red marks onto the jutting perfection of Clint’s hips. And then there was silk against Phil’s tongue, silk covering the most mouth-watering dick Phil had ever seen, touched, tasted, silk that made Clint writhe when Phil dragged his teeth along it. He untied the bow but didn’t remove the wrapped center of the ribbon.

“Fuck! Come on, Phil! Please, baby! Get that d-d-damn thing off and…” Phil cut off Clint’s frantic pleading by swallowing him down, ribbon and all, pressing firmly and barely rubbing his thumb behind Clint’s balls. Clint arched and screamed under him, and Phil rubbed the now wet silk into the skin of Clint’s cock with deft presses and slides of his tongue.

Clint was panting under him, head tossing, chest heaving as he fought to breathe.

“Phil, no,” Clint gasped, proving his flexibility by pulling one leg up to shove at Phil’s shoulder. “This is not how I want to get off first.” Phil pulled back, sucking as he slid away. Clint reached down to untangle the ribbon from his cock and threw it to the side. “Come back up here, babe. Just don’t want it over too soon. Don’t want it over ev…”

Phil cut him off with a kiss, unable to keep his hips still when he found himself pressed, skin to skin, along Clint’s body from chest to knees. Clint groaned and sucked at Phil’s tongue, driving Phil into a deeper frenzy. The sheets on the bed were already coming loose with the way they writhed against one another, rucking up under their bodies to create more sensation against their heated skin.

“Clint,” Phil panted, throwing his head back as Clint slid down to bite along his neck. “Open me up. Fuck, want you in me tonight. Wanna feel all of you.”

Clint pulled away violently and rolled Phil onto his stomach, kissing his shoulders frantically, hands clutching at Phil’s sides, his hips, his thighs. “Let me use my tongue. Please, Phil? Can I eat you out?”

Phil couldn’t have answered if he wanted, just shuddered violently as Clint dragged his mouth down his spine, tracing every knob of his spine, along the curve of his buttocks, tongue curling into his crack. He was sobbing by the time the hot dampness found it’s way to his puckered hole and licked over it, curling around and setting every one of the thousands of nerve endings on fire. Phil’s back arched, and he shouted, the sound echoing without a pillow to muffle it.

“So responsive, babe,” Clint purred. Phil shouted again when Clint bit into his asscheek, a fingertip probing where the tongue had been a moment before. Then the finger was gone and Clint’s face was back, slight stubble leaving trails of heat between Phil’s thighs. He groaned again and went limp under the attention. The tongue licked and circled, swirled and massaged, and Phil’s mouth was hanging open, trying to get enough air as the breath was punched out of him, over and over. And then he felt Clint wiggle and push, and that clever, soft tongue was _inside Phil’s body_. 

“Fuck, Clint! Oh, fuck. More, please, I need it. Want you. Need this.”

The finger was back, slick this time, sliding in past Clint’s tongue, which didn’t stop it’s stroking and twisting. The sheets ripped under Phil’s grip.

“Give me another. God, I need it… need you. Clint, fuck!” 

Clint obliged, his tongue still moving, sliding between the two fingers that were probing, curling, searching for the perfect place to rub. One rough callous snagged as it went across Phil’s prostate, and he screamed. 

Another scream as Clint repeated the motion. A third scream, and Phil came, orgasm rushing through his body, coming from everywhere at once. His vision whited out, and then everything went black. 

 

Clint looked at Phil’s limp form, with his eyes rolled up in his head and his limbs flopped bonelessly against the sheets, and started to laugh. He withdrew his fingers, wiped them on the wadded sheets, and rolled, pulling Phil into his arms as he went. Phil’s head flopped onto Clint’s chest, and Clint laughed again. 

“Hey, babe,” he said, twisting his legs around Phil’s and drawing their bodies tightly together. “Come on, boss. I know you’re in there. Come back to me.” 

Phil took a shuddering breath, and Clint pushed himself up against the pillows so he could watch Phil come back to himself. First Phil’s eyes blinked open, still mostly unfocused, and a soft smile began to spread over his slack mouth. Fingers tightened on Clint’s stomach, making him squirm at the tickle. Another blink, and Phil was looking out again, aware, but still obviously blissed and relaxed.

“Did I miss the good part?” Phil asked, and Clint stretched his neck down to kiss Phil’s perfectly crooked nose. 

“Wouldn’t be very good if you missed it, sir,” he said, tightening both arms around Phil.

“I’m back now.” Phil’s voice was thick, heavy, drugged. “How’s about you get in me now that you’ve taken the edge off?”

“Did you just say ‘how’s about?’” Clint asked, and he barely managed to turn a giggle into a more manly snicker. “Did I break you?”

“Far from it, Barton,” Phil said. He stretched lazily and rolled, shuffling until his back was pressed along Clint’s side. “Finish up what you were doing and fuck me, already.”

“Pushy,” Clint growled, feeling around for the lube. Finding it, he dribbled a bit more over his fingers and pressed three of them into Phil, slowly, carefully.

Phil grunted, and his hips bucked. “Stay off my prostate,” he warned breathlessly. “A little overstimulated now.”

Clint worked Phil for as long as he could stand, which ended up being about forty-five seconds, and then he pulled his hand free and rolled his hips against Phil’s ass. It felt… impossibly good, so he did it again. And then his body took over, and his hips rocked again. And again.

“You ready for me, babe?” he asked between quick kisses, frantically scattered across Phil’s shoulders and neck as he rutted desperately. “Please, Phil. Please say yes.”

Phil’s shoulders shook with laughter under Clint’s lips.

“Clint, just...” Phil lifted his leg and arched his back to give Clint better access. “Hurry up.”

Holding his breath, Clint steadied his cock with one hand and started to press forward. He stopped, throwing himself backward with a gasp. 

“Phil, fuck! Almost forgot the…” he fumbled around the bed until he found one of the foil packets from the box Phil had dropped on the bed earlier. 

“Clint,” Phil whined, twisting to look over his shoulder. His eyebrows were bunched around a deep crease in his forehead, and he was - that was not a pout; Phil did not pout - but he looked… scrunched. “You don’t… I mean… We could just...”

“Yeah, babe,” Clint said, hissing at the stimulation from his hand as he rolled on the condom. Lubed, thank god Phil always bought lubed. If he had to touch himself again or wait one more second, he would come come before he ever got inside. He lifted one hand to touch Phil’s bottom lip gently. “Yeah I do. Your rule.”

Phil sighed and turned away, impatiently shifting his hips. “Just hurry it up, then!”

Clint rolled his chest to Phil’s back and again reached down to guide his now painfully hard dick to Phil’s ass. He took a deep breath and slowly pressed in. 

At least, he tried to be slow.

“FuckfuckfuckfucksorryPhil,” Clint gasped as his hips pumped hard, out of his control.

A laugh rumbled through Phil’s chest, and he threw his head back to bump against Clint’s forehead. “‘s fine, love,” he slurred, pulling his knee closer to his chest and sliding his hand down his own thigh until Clint felt the brush of calloused fingers along his shaft as he slid home. “Just get fucking. Let’s see if we can get a couple out of _you_ again.”

“You’re gonna kill me, babe,” Clint breathed, pulling out only to immediately ram home. “Watching you come untouched, the way you’re taking it now, knowing it’s all for me...” Another couple of rhythmless thrusts. “Feel so good, so fucking good around me. Oh, Phil. Fuck, babe. Fuck. FUCK!”

Clint had been on the receiving end of a certain little trick of Phil’s before, but he still had not figured out what internal muscles Phil flexed to send that little ripple of sensation along his dick. It worked this time as well as it always had in the past, better actually, and Clint was coming - coming and howling and ramming into Phil so hard they both shifted a foot across the bed.

“Too fucking fast,” Clint grumbled, still writhing against Phil’s back with aftershocks. 

Phil pressed himself more tightly to Clint’s chest and laughed again, the sound gentle, warm, bright. “After what you did to me earlier, love? No such thing as ‘too fucking fast.” 

Clint felt Phil tense slightly, but he was already starting to drift into the pleasant post-orgasmic haze and couldn’t think enough to try to process the reason. 

“C’n I just rest here for a minute before we get back to it?” Clint asked, curling to burrow his face into the sweaty mess of the back of Phil’s hair. 

“Course, Clint,” Phil said, draping his arm back across Clint’s ribs. “Take all the time you need.”

Clint sighed and promptly fell into a light doze.

 

Phil reached between their bodies to catch the edge of the condom as he felt Clint soften inside him. A little wiggle, and Clint whined in his near-sleep as he slipped free. Phil stripped the condom off, tied it, and dropped it over the edge of the bed. He’d have to be Hawkeye to make it to the trash from here, and as Hawkeye was currently indisposed (and possibly drooling on Phil’s shoulder blade), the floor would have to do for now.

Clint’s arms wrapped tighter, and Phil tried to relax into the embrace.

Had he really almost let Clint go without the condom? And then, even mindless in the throes of… intense sexual activity… had he really said… that term of affection? _Twice?_ Called Clint… that endearment? Phil patted the thigh pressed to back of his own and let himself start to drift. He felt the tension leaking out of his limbs as Clint’s fingers tightened in the hair on his chest, familiar and welcome. Pre-mission jitters. That’s all it was. Really, though. At his age and security clearance! Maybe he should cut back on the coffee. 

Phil woke a little disoriented, arm completely asleep from a heavy weight pinning it to the bed, and his body very, very warm. He had rolled during his nap, wrapping the space heater in the form of one Agent Barton in his arms.

“Morning, babe,” Clint mumbled against Phil’s sternum. His fingers stroking through the fur of Phil’s chest brought a frisson of pleasure, and Phil briefly wished he could purr like a cat.

“I sincerely hope it’s not morning,” Phil said. He writhed as Clint’s fingernail scraped over a nipple, sending an electric shock straight to his groin. “You’d be leaving, and I’m not quite done with you yet. I believe I promised you a second orgasm.”

“You did,” Clint answered, wriggling down the bed to mouth at Phil’s chest. “And you’ve always been a man of your word.”

“Whereas you have always been more a man of action.” Phil flopped to his back, granting Clint’s wandering tongue more access to his body. His skin lit up with every lick, every sting of teeth as Clint nipped along the bottom edge of Phil’s ribs. He lifted a hand to cup the back of Clint’s head, holding his face close. 

“How do you do this to me?” Phil murmured. "Every time… it’s… you’re… God, the things you do to me…” Clint’s mouth was on Phil’s hip, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise that would last for a week, if Phil was really lucky. “The way you make me feel… Fuck yes! The things you make me feel…” He gasped, flipping an arm over his eyes as Clint swallowed him down. “Your mouth, so hot, so… nrrgh.”

Phil had lost track of what he was saying around the time Clint had licked his nipple. Now, with the hot slide of Clint’s tongue up the vein on the underside of his cock he lost track of the rest of himself. His eyes rolled back as two of Clint’s fingers circled his still-loose rim and slipped inside.

“God, Clint!” Phil gasped, arching off the bed, weight held on his heels and shoulders. One hand scrambled for Clint’s hair, fingers tightening, twisting as soon as he found it. “Oh fuck! I’m gonna come! Not yet. Fuck! Clint!”

The panic receded as Clint’s free hand locked around the base of Phil’s cock, tightening nearly enough to hurt. Phil tried to loosen his grip on Clint’s rumpled spikes, but could not get his hand to listen. He shoved himself up on one elbow to look down into the roguish glint in Clint’s eyes. Clint winked and slid back with a graphic slurp. 

“Not ready for you to let go yet, babe,” Clint said; he worked his fingers in and out of Phil a few more times. Phil groaned, abs convulsing and spine curling involuntarily until he was sitting with his nose a few inches from Clint’s. Clint laughed softly and pushed himself up to press a kiss to Phil’s cheek. The tenderness made Phil’s breath catch in his throat. “You just lie back down and let me enjoy myself for a bit, hmm?”

Phil sank back to the pillows with a hum of pleasure, and Clint chuckled again, slowly drawing his fingers free.

“Pretty sure I’m going to be the one enjoying myself here, Clint,” Phil said thickly. 

He hissed as Clint draped along his body, pressing his face into Phil’s neck and nosing along his jaw to bite at the hinge of his jaw. Phil’s eyes dropped shut, and he gave himself over to simply feeling while Clint’s fingers traced his ribs, the contour of the scars over his heart, the line of his shoulder. Phil hissed again when Clint bit the side of his neck, low enough to be covered by a shirt collar.

“Maybe it’s mutual enjoyment,” Clint countered. “Mutual… concurrent… simultaneous…”

“Mmm, talk thesaurus to me.” Phil kept his tone light, voice pleasantly even, and Clint dropped his forehead to Phil’s shoulder to laugh.

“And my bedmate is an asshole,” Clint said, pressing himself more tightly to Phil, wrapping his perfect arms around Phil’s ribs. 

“Your bedmate _has_ …”

“Phillip Coulson!” Clint barked. “Do not, under any circumstances, finish that sentence.”

Phil laughed, running his fingers through Clint’s hair. He let one hand rest on the back of Clint’s neck and ran the other down the ripples of Clint’s broad shoulder. 

“Why don’t you see if you can shut me up?” he challenged, and he rolled his hips up once, twice. His cock dragged through the soft fuzz on Clint’s chest, making them both shudder.

Clint growled and clamped his teeth on Phil’s right nipple.

“Oh fuck! Clint, fuck yes!” Phil shouted. A few variations of the same phrases later, and Clint’s teeth released, his tongue soothing the abused flesh. Phil panted, enjoying the burn. His nipples were not usually a major erogenous zone for him, but Clint could probably get him hot by touching nothing but his elbow.

“Well that didn’t noticeably work,” Clint said finally, sliding his arms out from under Phil and pushing himself back onto his knees.

“Was working for me,” Phil answered, trying for dry but only managing breathless. He forced his eyes open to watch Clint’s shoulders block the light above him. Fuck, those shoulders! Subject of a large fraction of Phil’s fantasies. 

“Didn’t turn your mouth off,” Clint explained, leaning forward to press one more kiss, just a gentle brush of his lips, across the now very sensitive flesh of Phil’s chest.

Phil hissed, his back arching; he was going to have sore muscles all over tomorrow.

“Turned everything else on, though,” he gasped out.

“You’re in fine form tonight,” Clint said with another rumble of laughter.

“You’re a fine form,” Phil managed to say before Clint turned his attentions to Phil’s other nipple. And then he shouted, “Fuck, your mouth!”

“Sounds good to me, if you want to,” Clint drawled, pushing himself up abruptly and sitting back on his heels. 

Phil groaned and sat up, pulling Clint in for a kiss. He devoured Clint’s mouth, sucking on that perfect bottom lip, tongue running along the edge of the top one. Clint moaned and writhed against Phil’s chest, fingers digging hard into Phil’s hip and thigh.

“My turn this time?” Clint whispered against Phil’s mouth. “Want you to leave me sore.”

Phil licked along Clint’s jaw, biting down the side of his neck, hoping the marks he was leaving weren’t too deep, but not caring enough to stop. 

Clint started babbling.“Please, babe. I want you to fuck my mouth while you open me up, and then I want to ride you until we’re both screaming with it. Fuck! Take me apart with your fingers, your mouth, your… you.”

Phil laughed, making it as low and dirty as he could against Clint’s shoulder. 

“Mind moving this party to a new location?” he asked, leaning back to meet Clint’s eyes.

“You having Philthy Phantasies about the cockpit? Because every time I’m in a cockpit, I’m always disappointed that there isn’t more cock.” Clint’s voice was serious, but his eyes were twinkling with mirth. “Or do you want to go down to the lab and pretend this is some freaky HYDRA experiment? Maybe fuck on the breakfast bar in the kitchen and never be able to look your team in the eye again when you’re eating?”

Phil rumbled another happy laugh. “My God, I love your perversions, Specialist.”

“Wait ‘til you see my specialty,” Clint answered with a playful quirk of his eyebrows. “So where is this alternate location you mentioned?”

“My desk,” Phil said, watching Clint’s face go from teasing to hungry with each word. “I want to spread you out on my desk, stick my cock down your throat, and work you open. Want to make you come on it, mark it, claim it. Want to see you naked every time I slip off my tie to fill out the boring part of the paperwork.”

Even in the dim light, Phil could see Clint’s eyes go from wide and blue to inky dark in record time.

“You perfect, gorgeous, kinky fucker,” Clint sighed, leaning his forehead against Phil’s. The kiss Phil received was gentle, searching. “How do you keep it such a secret from the lower ranks, with that sexy little smirk and your wicked, wicked tongue? Can’t they see how you move? How every goddamned line of your body is designed to be touched, licked, fucked?”

“It’s the suit,” Phil told him. He hoped the darkness of the room hid the blush he could feel growing from the compliments and the sincerity of the voice delivering them. Phil leaned forward until their noses brushed. “No one expects a suit like mine to hide a sex drive like yours. Also, I don’t tend to suggest intercourse in my workspace to most people.”

“Get me to that goddamned desk, sir,” Clint said, his voice deeper, rougher than usual, “and I’ll make it good for you.”

“Always do, Clint,” Phil said, shifting to stand and reaching for Clint’s hand. “You always do.”

Clint grinned, grabbing a couple of condoms and sticking the packets between his teeth before reaching back for the lube. He knelt on the side of the bed and held up his arms. Phil laughed and leaned down to grip tightly under the swell of Clint’s ass.

“Now I have to carry you every time, huh?” he asked. He hoisted, and Clint wrapped around him tightly, the bottle in his fist digging into Phil’s shoulder. “Knew there was a downside to my newfound strength.”

Clint laughed against the side of Phil’s neck, and he ran the corners of the foil packages in his mouth along the top Phil’s shoulder making his legs shake.

“Keep that up, and we’re not getting to the desk,” Phil said, voice coming out rough. “I’ll drop you right here, fuck you breathless, and make sure it leaves carpet burn on your perfect ass.”

“Phil, babe,” Clint said, taking the condoms out of his mouth and locking his ankles together behind Phil’s ass, “I don’t care… just… just want you in me.”

Phil heaved Clint onto the desk and leaned over him, pressing him flat across the blotter. He pressed a kiss to the center of Clint’s chest, ran his nose through the softness of the blond hair there, and then just… froze.

“Phil?” Clint asked, pushing himself up onto one elbow, dropping the condoms on the desk as he sat up. “Babe, what is it?”

His fingers brushed the side of Phil’s face, and Phil turned his head to press a kiss to the scarred skin of Clint’s inner wrist.

“Just… I just can’t believe you’re here,” Phil said. He rocked his hips into the cleft of Clint’s legs, earning him a hiss and a groan. 

“Told you before, babe,” Clint said, sitting up and pulling Phil in until they were chest to chest. “Any time you need me. No matter where you are, I’ll get there.”

Phil closed his eyes against the look in Clint’s. This was… this was exactly what he needed tonight. He shook his head and refocused on the muscled abs pressed against his middle. No time to be maudlin, better to make use of what was on… offer.

“Lie back, Clint,” Phil said, pushing slightly. “I believe you had a suggestion for the use of your mouth.”

“Oh, God, yes,” Clint said with a bright, sharp grin. He melted across the desk, shoving the chair back so his head could hang down, straightening and lengthening his neck. “Come on around here!”

Phil got lost in the slow roll of his hips into the wet heat of Clint’s mouth, pressing in until he could feel Clint’s throat convulse around him with each slow stroke. He picked up the bottle of lube, dribbled some over the fingers of his right hand, and reached for Clint’s hips.

“Brace yourself,” he directed, and then he lifted, curling Clint onto his shoulders, ass in the air. Clint’s hands flailed out to the side for a moment before finally finding purchase on the edge of the desk to help support himself; his shins came to rest on Phil’s shoulders. Phil trailed one slick finger across Clint’s hole, stepping back slightly to keep his thrusts shallower with the curl now in Clint’s throat.

“So good,” Phil said, pressing in with his fingertip. “So limber. So gorgeous.”

Clint groaned around Phil’s cock, and the vibrations went straight to Phil’s balls. Clint’s tongue swirled around the head, and Phil slipped his finger deeper. 

“Fuck,” Phil gasped. “You just open for me, let me in, let me… fuck!”

Clint tipped his head to one side to wink at Phil, straightened his neck, and opened to let Phil go deep into his mouth again.

Phil added a second finger.

“Not going to last if you keep that up, love,” he said, spreading his fingers as he withdrew them. “God, I want in you. Want to fuck you, leave marks inside and out.”

Clint let out another groan that trailed off into a growl. He lifted one hand to push Phil back so he could speak.

“Ready now, Phil,” he said breathlessly. “Come on. I’m ready.” His tongue snaked out to brush against the tip of Phil’s cock.

Phil groaned and withdrew his hand. He tipped his head over to rub his cheek against the side of Clint’s calf, feeling the slight tremble of Clint straining to hold himself up, display himself, contort himself, all for Phil’s pleasure. He was so hard, so hot, so…

“Up, Clint,” Phil grated out, throat nearly too dry to speak. “Up, come on… Fuck… need… Come on…”

Clint twisted as he swung his legs down, spinning his body gracefully. He ended sitting, chest to chest with Phil, and Phil lost no time, catching Clint’s face in his hands, crashing their mouths together, tongue and teeth taking, plundering, owning. He could taste himself on Clint’s tongue, and he pressed forward harder, chasing the flavor.

“Phil,” Clint gasped. “Phil, come on, fuck me.”

“On the desk,” Phil commanded hoarsely. “On your knees.”

Clint shoved hard, and Phil stumbled back, banging the backs of his knees on his chair and sitting down in it, hard. Clint laughed, but wasted no time scrambling onto the desk. He held out a hand. 

“Come on, sir,” he said, “get up here and….”

Phil shoved himself roughly out of the chair and hauled himself up behind Clint, his ankle sending a lamp and a folder flying; Phil ignored them. Clint handed him a condom, and Phil ripped it open, rolling it on quickly. He pulled Clint upright, and wedged the head of his cock between Clint’s cheeks.

“Go go go,” Clint chanted under his breath, hips swaying backward in tiny, tight, desperate movements. “Go go go…”

So Phil went, pressing in slowly but steadily, burying himself in the tight heat of Clint’s body, his groan of pleasure echoed in Clint’s hiss at the stretch. When he was fully seated, he dropped his head onto Clint’s shoulder, kissed the muscle once, tenderly, then locked his teeth on and drew his hips back slowly, before snapping them forward. Clint’s arms reached up and back, draping over Phil’s shoulder, pulling them tighter together, and Phil caught Clint’s hips, gripping hard enough to leave fingerprints. Phil released his jaw and shouted, eyes falling shut.

“Fuck yes, babe,” Clint said, rolling his head to mouth at the corner of Phil’s lips. “Fuck me. _Pound_ me! Fuck!”

Phil’s hips snapped hard again, and he fought his way to a rhythm. Clint rocked against him, head hanging limply back, breath a panting whisper against Phil’s neck.

“Gotta be careful out there, babe,” Clint murmured. “Don’t want’a go without this. Without you. Both been so busy, we’ve barely gotten to use the Clint Cam to it’s full advantage. So you gotta come back safe, ‘kay? Already lost you once, so you’ve got to come back.”

Between the breathlessness of his arousal and the lump in his throat, Phil could not have answered, so he slid one hand up from Clint’s hip to chest, pulling their bodies more tightly together. Clint’s nails raked into Phil’s skin where his hands were spreading across the back of Phil’s shoulders. Their hips stuttered as the angle made vigorous thrusting more difficult. Phil recovered first and wrapped the hand still on Clint’s other hip around to his stomach, letting their hips roll together in a slow, sensuous grind.

“Shitshitshit,” Clint hissed, lowering one arm to grab his cock. “You’re right there… Ohhhh, fuck, Phil! Not gonna make…”

And he cut off with a low growl as he came, trying to catch it all in his hand. The throb of Clint’s orgasm, combined with the sinful sound of Clint’s following moans amped Phil up, and he shoved Clint down to his elbows and grabbed his hips.

“Hang on,” Phil grunted, sliding one hand up Clint’s sweat-soaked back to clutch at his perfect shoulder while the other hand grabbed his hip, fingertips lining up on the bruises that were already forming. He drew back, nearly to the tip, and then slammed forward. Clint snarled, and Phil repeated the gesture. A dozen strokes, and he was lost, draping himself across Clint’s trembling back as he pulsed, buried deep inside Clint’s body.

It was several moments before Phil could see clearly again, and he realized he was still kneeling on his desk, weight almost completely supported by Clint, who was holding them both up one-armed as he tried to keep the sticky mess rapidly drying on his other off of Phil’s paperwork. He started to laugh.

“Babe,” Clint said underneath him, voice a bit hoarse, “think you could get off before you succumb to hysteria?”

Phil pressed a firm, playful kiss to Clint’s spine, tasting the salt of sweat drying on his skin. 

“I just did,” he said, before pushing himself up to catch the condom as he withdrew. 

“Come on, smartass,” Clint said, rolling carefully to climb down from the desk. “Let’s go take a snuggly-close shower. Don’t have too long before your team starts trickling back in, and I’d like to be gone before they find me.”

“Stay until my alarm?” Phil asked as he trailed after Clint to the micro-head. Clint didn’t answer right away.

It wasn’t until they were pressed, chest to chest, thigh to thigh, under the warm spray of water that Clint seemed to decide. 

“I’ll stay,” he said. “Was nice waking up with you in my arms. Twice in one night would be…”

Phil cut him off with a kiss, slow, deep and gentle. Clint was silent for several long moments.

“Just promise me one thing,” Clint said at last, pulling away. “No heroics this time. Don’t go up against anyone with superpowers alone. It… didn’t go so well… Just don’t want you to die on me again, babe.”

As kissing had proven to effectively shut Clint up, Phil did it again.

“I’ll try to be careful, Clint,” Phil said, leaning his forehead against Clint’s. “But I’ll do my job. Just like you do with your team.”

“I know, babe,” Clint said, wrapping Phil tightly in his arms and pulling Phil’s head to his neck. “You always do your job, and you’re so damned good at it. And that is really fucking sexy.”

Phil chuckled and sucked at the pulsepoint beneath his jaw. Clint shivered in his arms.

“Come on, babe,” Phil said, fumbling behind Clint’s back for the shower knob and cutting off the water. “Let’s get some rest.”

Clint helped remake the bed with fresh sheets (what SHIELD’s laundry service were going to think happened to the previous set, Phil did not want to consider), the two of them working with the clockwork efficiency they had always shown in the field and the bedroom. Clint crawled under the covers first while Phil wandered around the office, collecting his suit and Clint’s clothing, discarded condom, a scattered file, and a miraculously unbroken lamp. 

“Come _on_ , babe,” Clint whined from the bed. “Night’s not getting any longer, and I’d like a few more minutes with your skin.”

Smiling softly, Phil slid between the sheets and wrapped himself around Clint as tightly as he could, trying not to consider how incredibly happy he felt right in that moment. Probably just post-sex or pre-mission endorphins. Anyway, no time to mess about with it right now. There was a mission to begin. And Clint would be gone in - a glance up at the clock - three hours. So few hours they could be together… Hardly a relationship. Which is why it had never been a relationship. Too complicated. Too much risk. Too many ways to get hurt. But, fuck, Clint was beautiful, sprawled in Phil’s bed.

“And my _god_ , Phil,” Phil mentally told himself, “shut the hell up already.”

He tightened his arms around Clint’s waist, licking once over a nipple before rubbing his now-stubbly cheek against the soft, golden hair on Clint’s torso. He felt Clint’s body begin to relax, and pressed his face more tightly against Clint’s chiseled chest, letting the furnace-like warmth of Clint’s bulk sooth him toward sleep. They were both out a breath later.

Phil woke up just enough for Clint to get one real kiss when the alarm blared its first warning. Clint considerately hit the snooze before he rolled to his feet to dress. Phil didn’t bother to ask how a master spy planned on getting off the Bus; he probably didn’t want to know. But he watched Clint’s ass all the way to the office door after a quick kiss goodbye, and then he rolled onto his back to stare at the dim outline of the skylight and to try not to think. The sheets were starting to cool, but Phil curled into the remnants of Clint’s body heat and took a deep breath of the gun powder and oil scent that always got his blood racing. The snooze had seven minutes left on it, so he closed his eyes, wrapped his arms around the pillow, and drifted. 

***

Mike Peterson left the office to collect the rest of the team for the briefing on the change in mission parameters, and Phil took a deep, steadying breath. He crossed to the hidden drawer beneath the corner shelf, stroking his finger lightly over the biometric lock and watching as it swung open. Inside was a freshly washed, if slightly worse-for-the-wear purple ribbon and a small, brushed-finish silver card case, along with a box of condoms that was now missing three, and a nearly empty bottle of lube. He added a mental note to his shopping list for when he returned before he reached into the drawer to brush one finger over the purple ribbon. His hand hesitated over the case for a long moment.

***

“They wanna trade,” Phil told his gathered team, studying their worried faces. “Ace for his father.”

 

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> As always, a million and one thanks to my beautiful beta, [Selana](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Selana/pseuds/Selana) for making this story readable and grammatically correct. You cannot know how deep a debt you owe her for this. Also, she creates some very hot porn, if that’s your cup of tea (and what are you doing here if it’s not?!), so go read and show her some love; you won’t regret it. Thank you for being my beta, for putting up with my slow betaing in return, and for being one of the best friends anyone could EVER hope for. You ROCK!
> 
> And much love and thanks to [Kathar](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kathar/pseuds/Kathar) for helping to birth this story as surely as if she carried it herself. When we started one silly exchange in comments on one of her stories, I had no idea we would ever get to this point where we practice unsafe tandem porn-writing (it leads to little fic babies that grow up into giant fic whales; always tandem write porn with proper protection or with someone you know you could share fic with for the rest of your natural life). But I’m grateful for her inspiration, her support, her pushing my butt to write and do and create, and her friendship. Thanks, dear heart.
> 
> Your comments and kudos are coveted and hoarded for rough days when writing is hard, so leave me something to hold on to. I’m terribly chatty and not scary at all. Drop me a comment or come visit me on Tumblr.
> 
> Also, we can all three be found on Tumblr:
> 
> [faeleverte](http://faeleverte.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> [Kathar](http://kat-har.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> [Selana](http://selana1505.tumblr.com)


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